


This Love, This Hate

by HeartoftheNight



Category: Terra Nova (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Episode Tag, F/M, Love/Hate, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartoftheNight/pseuds/HeartoftheNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't flinch when he slides under the cover. Quietly, hesitantly. Like he's afraid of disturbing her. His insecurity is absurd and yet utterly, completely him. AU-ish Oneshot. A Luckye pairing aka Lucas/Skye. M for one reason.  Crossposted on Lj & FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Love, This Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty AU-ish in the time of "Occupation". Hope you like.

She doesn't flinch when he slides under the cover. Quietly, hesitantly. Like he's afraid of disturbing her. His insecurity is absurd and yet utterly, completely him. She pretends she's asleep, disgusted with herself at the games she plays with this man. Her enemy. A monster. She shouldn't have let it get to this point and its been so much further. It will again. She knows its wrong and there's nothing she can do to stop herself from doing it.

His skin is feather light as his fingers brush against the back of her neck. The shudder that escapes shatters the illusion of her slumber but they had both already known it was a lie. A part of the sick game they play with each other, the roles they play here in this room. His room. His father's. Another brush of callused stained fingers; another shudder racing down her spine. Revulsion and desire. Oil and water twined together in her body. Inescapable and long past the point of fighting.

Another inquisitive caress before he slides the front of his body to rest against the back of hers, his face buried in her hair. Like the first time. Like every time. She can still remember it so clearly.

Terra Nova fallen. Burning. Filled with the acrid smell of smoke and explosives. Death. They'd come in the morning and the settlement had fallen at noon. So little time for your whole world to fall apart. The rest of the day spent cataloging everyone's whereabouts. Her time spent in between being detained and helping in the med ward. Hiding from Lucas' sight and the condemning eyes of the ones that had known what part she had played. Everyone knew. As swiftly as Terra Nova had fallen, so had the news of her treachery. Worse than the Sixers and the Phoenix's. One of them. She tells herself its why she didn't turn away from him when he found her that night.

The apartment empty but for her. No one wanted to bunk with a traitor. Curled alone in her bed as her home still burned. She hadn't heard him enter but she'd known who it was the moment he slipped under the covers. Had known with the scent of the wild jungle entering her senses, filling her with familiar conflicted emotions. He'd touched her then as he did now. Pulling her to him and whispering that stupid nickname into her neck. Like a homecoming, a prayer, something long fought for finally won. A possession of all that she was. A plea for understanding, for forgiveness. A moan of guilt, of utter grief. He was a genius. It would make sense that he'd know how to completely undo her with one simple word.

Her quest to save her mother had made her a traitor. His obsession to destroy the father he misunderstood had turned him into a monster. It made sense that in each other they found an understanding of one another that neither had been looking for. But it was utterly irresistible. Consuming every warning of the destruction it would unleash. A pull to the only one who could accept you and yet the horror of wanting them pushing between an unbreakable wedge. Except for here.

Here, in the dark of night where there were no judging eyes, no condemnation, just two shattered people there was a sense of peace. Of the inevitable getting its way once again.

He says her name. Bucket. Not Skye. Never Skye. Everyone owns that part of her, but not this name he's adopted for her. Only one other person has it and not anything like this. This is theirs and she cannot resist it. Resist him. Not in the dark. In the light of day its fighting and pulling away, but here there is only a sick surrender.

She turns into his arms, answering his plaintive whisper. He sighs against her lips, tension easing from his body as he gathers her to him. She's never resisted him in this and it amazes her that he's always afraid of her rejection. Then again, she's the only one with anything to lose.

He curls her hair around his fingers, inhaling and its the expression on his face when he does that always undoes her. Like its the sweetest thing he's ever smelled, like his world is at peace. And in this moment it is. In this moment he is utterly and completely hers. There is no Terra Nova or portal or Sixers or Phoenix soldiers or Commander Taylor. There is only them. She's never had this kind of power over some one else and its intoxicating. It shoves aside her inhibitions, her reason, sense of right and wrong. All that's left is them.

"Bucket." A moan of need, for acceptance of all he is and all he's done.

"Shh." A plea to not disturb the spell that holds the world away.

She pulls his fingers from her hair and kisses the scarred knuckles before guiding his hand to her hip. He curls his fingers around the bone, holds on like he never wants to let go. Nuzzles her face in the darkness until he finds her mouth. She arches into his kiss, clinging to his shoulders as he quests for permission, acceptance. Her only answer to open to him, to let him in. Let him burrow himself into her soul like the parasite that had infected Hunter. But she knew he could never be burnt or cut out. He'd become a part of her and denying him was like denying herself.

He's gentle, hesitant. Always. But also sure of himself, confident in the power he has over her. At times possessing her and others seeking her permission to touch. His kiss tonight is forceful, commanding. Taking all of her and she clings to him to stay afloat in his storm. It'll kill her, consume her one day. But not tonight.

They roll together until he's over her, pulling frantically at her shirt. She doesn't help him as she kisses him. Tongues dueling for supremacy she lets him figure out the buttons of her blouse on his own. Her way of saying she has an illusion of control over any of this. He denies it with a nip on her bottom lip that he doesn't soothe. Pulling away from each other enough to tear her blouse away and pull his shirt over his head.

A part of her recognizes the wild beauty of him. Muscled and hard from his years alone OTG. But riddled with the scars of those trials. Alone to face them all and it calls to her who had always been surrounded by people to help her. Tears rise unbidden and she pulls him to her to hold him near, to block out anything but this primal need. He moans into her mouth, flexing his body against hers and again she feels the pull of wild power. She alone has him like this, sees him at his most vulnerable, his most sane. She alone can calm the wild rage that lies beneath everything. He allows only her to reach out to him and understand. She holds him and he possesses her. Infinitely screwed beyond recognition of anything right or healthy and just as infinitely impossible to walk away from.

There's not much left between them when he pulls her pants and panties off. Just the dirty cargoes he wears. She can feel his hunger through them, his need. But he only kisses her, callused, scarred hand cupping her breast. She moans for him, the rough texture of his skin on her sensitive flesh sending flames of pleasure through her body. With everything that this is, its also pleasurable. There's real need, want, involved. He brings out in her with a simple look what a full kiss with Josh could never do. Its the Shannon boy she should be wanting this with. But long ago something in her had broke and gotten skewed. She'd been forced to mature too soon and now she was this broken thing that could only want the man with her now.

He catches her bottom lip in his teeth, tugging once before letting go and lowering himself to her breasts. She cries out, unable to help herself, even with the knowledge that the guard outside the door can hear. Must surely know what's going on inside even if he hadn't known before. It makes no matter, doesn't stop her from doing it again when he continues to nuzzle her. Beard scraping, burning and it feels good. Her hands in his hair, holding him to her as she rolls and bucks like a ship on a stormy sea. He cradles her hips in his hands, steadying her as he moves lower and she's lost beneath the waves. Succumbing to the inevitable. No will to fight what he's doing to her. He takes his time, showing his care or perhaps only the level of his control. She doesn't care right now. Later she will. With the light of dawn the shame will come. But not now.

She surfaces when his hard muscled thigh pushes between hers. Opening her body for him just as surely as he's opened every other part of her and made himself at home. It was only logical that this would happen also. She doesn't fight it, welcomes him to her and he sighs her name again. Its a small moment that he rests unmoving before she suddenly bucks against him, rolling him to his back and following with. A small huff of laughter and then nothing but their heaving breath as she rides him slow and hard. Him holding her hips, guiding. Her nails digging into his chest, making her own marks on a body already riddled with them. But she'll have her own place on him just as surely as he has a place within her.

The end rocks her, renders her helpless as he cradles her in the strong circle of his arms. Holds her through the final whirls of the storm even as his body joins her there. In this moment she can pretend that they really are nothing but two lovers with nothing else between them. In this fleeting time, there is no Terra Nova, no Sixers or greedy companies seeking to destroy the one last beautiful thing left. There's just them.

After, she lays on her side again, him pressed along her back. His hand is tracing patterns on her stomach and reality is slowly encroaching again. She the traitor whore and he the manic destroyer of all that she loves.

"You were my first." She doesn't know why the admission escapes. All it will do is give him another tie of mastery over her.

"And your last," is his response, said in that slow quiet way of his. Ominous. And utterly true.


End file.
